I have this feeling
Creeping up from my cold feet
I am staring back
Creases on my brow
Keep growing with dull repeat
Of the news, I hear,
There is a revolution
I am caught in it, the retorts.
People falling down,
I will go without any
Pressure, lightly push.
Ice rink roundabout
Skates slipping on fuming tears
Not frozen, hot blood,
Lust, love, what is answering
The donkey or howling mutt?
The limelight can burn,
Like a flambeau set too close
Taking down the tent.
Nothing matters here,
Except I never ignore
Love is the reason;
Gunshots are just a symptom,
Of the virus, the malaise.
Love paints the portrait,
Rebels cut it down, rubbish,
The ashcan again.
Who I am, you are,
No invoice, no guarantee,
Ticket, play the game,
Sometimes it all runs aground,
No one tastes Heaven, a loss.
Still, racers will chase
Heavy lathered off the track
No turn, going back.
Every day a death
The dream left alone, uncaught,
Walking in deep snow
Left hanging over water,
Because one end is not enough.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
I found a Playlist that seemed to move me in a sorta way. Lots of Bowie in it, and he always turns my brain.
Maybe I will come back with something sweet. I hope you are well. If you like it here at Haphazard Creative, consider following the site, or returning as you will.
As a prompt, set up some music you seldom listen to, maybe from an earlier period, then let it lead you wherever you are taken. Create something.
Haphazard Creative 